


Pitiful

by Wrathofscribbles



Series: Shipping words [12]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 23:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19486396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: What else are you supposed to do in sweltering heat?





	Pitiful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MysteriousBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteriousBean/gifts).



> **Big bold reminder that FFXV and its content are property of Square Enix.** I just play in the sandpit they've created.
> 
> A little thing inspired by yet more [lovely art](https://mysteriousbean5.tumblr.com/post/185965091486/more-cuddles-cause-i-cant-help-myself) by mysteriousbean

"Can it possibly _be_ any hotter?" Prompto whines from - somewhere beside him, and if he had the energy he'd fish the pillow from under his shoulder and beat him over the head with it for surely jinxing them, but that would require energy and effort and he frankly has none left to spare.

"You passed out at Ravatogh, remember? 'Course it can be hotter."

"Well, yeah, but that was Ravatogh. Pretty sure it's Ifrit's personal barbecue, dude. A little scorching and a quick death. This feels like being boiled alive or, I dunno, inhaling soup. Malboro gut soup."

"Prompto?"

"Yeah?"

_"Please shut up."_

"Yessir."

Noctis levers up to fix him with a glare at that, only to find him looking marginally better than he feels. With good reason, too, since Prompto had the good sense to at least position himself under the ceiling fan before giving up the will to live. Whereas Noctis just stripped down to his boxers and faceplanted on the bed and misery and called it a day, cursing his very existence. Hindsight's a bitch.

But potential relief from the sweltering heat is too tempting a lure to resist and he crawls over to Prompto's side, curls up half beside him and half _on_ him, as small as he can make himself. He must make a pitiful picture indeed, but he doesn't care, and heaves a happy sigh when fingers drag through his hair and sweep it back from his forehead, a gesture he drops a kiss to Prompto's knee for.

"Just a suggestion, but maybe some ice wouldn't go amiss around here."

"Y'know how Iggy feels about misuse of my magic."

"Well. Iggy isn't here, is he? Pretty sure he'd prefer a tired Noct to a melted one, though."

"... You're a terrible influence."

"I know. But you love me anyway."


End file.
